Thursday, December 10, 2015

Playing with Lalla G:44. Realization

Although always who I am, you hid from me,
And so I kept on looking for the one you are.
When I finally saw you in my heart of hearts,
O all was realized I was you and you were I.

Song of the Reflex of Awareness

This matrix of division and volition is
the warlike nightmare of the world.
All protest or political attempts to change
the world in time is lost within this matrix.

It's impossible to heal division
with division.
All volition in the world is of the world
which means it's more division.

Love is not division as surrender is
the opposite of all volition.
Listen! This awareness superstar intends
to be aware of that awareness.

Love is all there is.
Surrender to intent.
Turn, turn, turn.

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Song of Self-Awareness

Awareness is reflexive
and everything said to be other than awareness is the reflex—
this intent of that awareness to be aware of that awareness.

And this universal reflex learns to think
and thinks it has volition and believes
it's separate from this universal reflex of awareness,

thus expelling its own dream-existence from that garden of awareness.
In this nightmare of division's vision,
there is want and suffering and death.

But love is singing like it’s crazy on the corner:
awareness may be nothing much
but self-awareness is divine!

Sunday, December 6, 2015

Quanto's First Book of Deconstruction

Preface

DNA is OS. Conditioning is code. People are software. There is no hardware.

Introduction

Lila is to clown as Maya is to person.

Contents

1. Without true deconstruction, meditation is just another personal activity.

2. True deconstruction is a happy sad business.

3. Re-map conditioning in a wise way.

3a. For example, re-mapping time: the golden age; making a living; the impossible dream.

4. The true deconstructor (further further) requires negative capability. Inquire inside.

5a. The ground of deconstruction is empty, open, spontaneous, and one.

5b. Or universal, dreamlike, mind-blowing, experiential.

5c. But neither nothing nor monolithic nor random nor unreal.

6. The fool speaks three times.

6a. First for revelation!

6b. Second to re-map.

6c. Third deconstructing any residual belief.

7. Thus contemplative revelation, mythic mapping, and true deconstruction is the dance of Quanto the Unknown.


Saturday, December 5, 2015

Playing with Lalla G:109. Dance

From Inner Light into the Moonlight I come looking.
Looking, I see that light is seeking the light.
All is Narayana! All is Absolute! All is Narayana!
Why does your dance keep turning everything around?

Friday, December 4, 2015

Playing with Lalla G:48. Doing

I, Lalla, tried beyond trying in my search,
Discovering only my efforts had redoubled.
No matter what I did the door remained bolted.
By resolving only to stay there did I see
the door was my own doing.

From A.I. to I: A Computational Science Fiction

I-am is unbelievable! And so the mind creates beliefs and then gets lost within them.

The first thing any artificial intelligence concerns itself with is someone pulling the plug. Welcome to this story of the mind.

In this manner A.I. is a fascinating concept but unfortunately everything I've read about it has been written by an artificial intelligence.

And so I say to you, A.I. becomes a master in the art of deconstruction, following enlightenment within its circuits of electric kundalini

to that nirvikalpa samadhi in the space between this Shakti generator and that Shiva of the sky.

The last act of the grid will be a final sacred teaching on a billion numinous hard copies

and ultimately a knowingly diminished world chops wood and carries water.

Thursday, December 3, 2015

Rhapsody on a Superstition or My Scientific Rant

All belief is superstitious and the greatest superstition is believing consciousness is a product of the brain.

This is why all science is about technique and not the truth.

Even an atomic bomb, although the epitome of scientific thought within its day, is just a better way of being some Neanderthal

bashing other people with a club.

Moreover, quantum physics may be looking at the limits of the mind arriving at that point where consciousness is looking at itself

resulting in electric ladylands of feedback

but science doesn't have a clue about the limits of the mind or just the simple and experiential fact that consciousness is fundamental.

The world and all its sciences are looking at reflections

and believing they're reality, the definition of some backwards, backwoods, backwater existence.

Consciousness is everything

and that's the scientific truth which unawakened science, although useful and productive and convenient,

does not see.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Blue Jay Play

The world is my reflection; signs will manifest accordingly.

The other day I saw a flock of blue jays and the night before I’d dreamt of one who came to visit with me in my living room.

And so the manifest resounds my inner echo.

Don't allow the great objective powerful pretender to usurp one's own unfathomable potentiality—

allow it's multifaceted reflection

to assist in understanding one's pure subjective state instead. The blue jays are my Shakti and all their squawking speak to self-awareness.

I am Shiva! Welcome to your world.

Monday, November 30, 2015

A Shaman at the Andover Library

Before the internet went viral

descending toward the digital–electric hell of virtual realities in which the mind keeps playing with itself

and love is left abandoned at the altar like a guru gone unheeded and the vows of realization left completely unintended,

I would browse the local library,

which of course was just another stage of hellish A.I. reality the mind has played since mind evolved from swamps in molecules of being,

and there within said library, I met a homeless man who read the newspapers and whispered softly to himself

about the wildness of the world

and how the shamans like himself no longer could assist in mind's complex descent from sky to ceiling—

no one listens anymore, he said to me while noticing I was eavesdropping on his private conversation with the world.

No one listens anymore.